


No Regrets

by Zagzagael



Category: Black Dagger Brotherhood - J. R. Ward
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagzagael/pseuds/Zagzagael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Butch and V are on patrol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Regrets

_He was on his back, in his black Hugo Boss, inside the luxurious quilted satin of a coffin. And really, if he had thought mahogany boxes with brass handles and colour-coordinated interior sumptuous linings were over the top when he was alive, he certainly wasn’t about to change his mind on the matter just because now he was inside one. And why hadn’t they just cremated him, ashes to ashes and all that. Load him onto a cheap wooden canoe and push him out onto Lake Erie, body ablaze? He would have to speak with V about it when he saw him again._

_Would he see him again?_

_His broad shoulders were wedged against the sides and when he flexed his bare feet he could feel the length of the box. Bare feet? Where were his goddamned shoes? That was the question, not why was he buried, why had he died, why couldn’t that traitorous doctor save his lousy life, no, the question was why hadn’t someone put his shoes on his feet? Supple Italian leather would have slipped over his gunwales, even with rigormortis setting in._

_V would have put his shoes on him, V would have. So, why hadn’t he?_

_Suddenly, he wanted out of the box. Something didn’t make sense and that something had to do with Vishous. He would claw his way through the satin and wood, up through the dirt and rock, he would bust through a cement liner if he had to. Vishous needed him. Somewhere. Waiting. For him. He jerked himself inside the constricting space, it was so tight, he couldn’t breathe, and he had to get out. He could hear the rain falling on his headstone six feet above. It sounded like the falling of secret tears._

A car door slammed shut. With a sudden and quick movement, Butch turned his head and opened one eye, V was settling back into the driver’s seat and he had a steaming paper cup in each hand. He wasn’t dead; he was alive, just surfacing from a fractured dream, Vishous was right here, in the SUV with him. He wiggled his toes, a fine pair of shitkickers on his feet. And yeah, he was bonded to the drop-dead gorgeous Marissa, but right now, it was all about V and being alive. He breathed in deeply through both flared nostrils, let the same lungful of air out in a heaving breath, then breathed in again.

“Oh, you’re awake, sleeping beauty. I thought I was going to have to entertain myself on this stakeout. I was getting ready to use a black Sharpie to draw a moustache on your hairless mug. Here.” He handed him a cup.

“Would have served me right, falling asleep on the job. Thanks. You did get whipped cream on top, didn’t you?”

V snorted and looked at Butch over the rim of his cup as he pulled deeply at the hot coffee. “I’ve got your whipped cream on top, Cop. Right here.”

Butch sipped the coffee. It was thick with whipped cream. He smiled. “You’re punchy tonight.”

“I’m tired. I’m not convinced this is where we need to be at the moment. I’m drinking coffee instead of 80 proof.” He glanced over at Butch and then away. “And you’re unnerving me a bit with all the moaning you’re doing in your sleep.”

Butch’s eyebrows came together over his eyes. “Moaning? Like…”

“Yeah, moaning, and not like. I don’t think you’re dreaming about Marissa, if you get my drift.”

He nodded, then shook his head. “Yeah, no. You’re right.” He paused and drank from the cup again, wondering if his face, his eyes, were giving him away. He felt hot then cold. He looked over at the vampire, his profile outlined in sharp relief against the streetlight on the corner, the interior of the Escalade black as the darkest night. “I was dreaming I was dead. In a coffin. Awake, but perfectly clear on the being dead part, you know?”

V remained silent, but his eyes blazed with light then dimmed again. “Go on.”

“And I was barefooted.”

Vishous started, then settled back into the leather upholstery of the Escalade’s bucket seat. He turned his eyes on Butch’s own. "Barefooted? In a coffin?” He smoothed the short hairs of his moustache over the edge of his lip.

Butch nodded and finished the coffee. “Yep.”

V held his cup of coffee between both of his large, square palms, fingers drumming lightly. He stared out the windscreen into the dark alley beyond. “Do you know what that means?”

“What what means? Dreaming about being dead?”

“No. Dreaming about being buried barefooted.”

“It means something?” Butch looked out the fogged window, the rain outside pattering softly against the glass. With the backs of his knuckles he rubbed a small circle in the mist.

“Yes, it means something. It means someone isn’t ready for you to go. Isn’t ready for you to be dead. The dead can’t cross the flooded plain into the Void without their shoes.”

“Well, that someone is probably me then. I’m not ready for me to be dead.”

V was silent, a long exhalation. “Probably. “ He closed his eyes, quietly he said, “You came so close, Butch. So close.”

Butch reached over and grabbed his friend with a tight grip on the other man’s thick forearm. “I know, brother. I know. But look,” he held both hands up, “I made it through. Thanks to you. Gave ol’ Death and that fuck the Omega the finger and I’m still here. Aren’t I? You’re the one who had to go under the knife, get the rib spreader and have your heart stitched back together.”

V looked down at the other man’s broad hand on his arm; he could feel the heat of Butch’s blood, the hot dampness of his palm, through the leather jacket and the silk of his shirt sleeve. He closed his eyes. “And now look at it – shot full of holes again. And this time she can’t fix it.”

“Oh, man, V. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Butch’s voice trailed off.

V held up a hand, “It’s okay. Butch. Really. I’m going to step out here and have a smoke. You go back to sleep and I’ll wake you if I see anything suspicious.”

“Fuck you, I’m not going to fall asleep on the job again. Just a testament to your scintillating personality that I nodded off the last half an hour.”

Vishous grinned wickedly and his lengthening fangs glinted. “My presence can be stimulating, my man. Somewhere along the way, I must have lost my edge. Imagine that.”

Butch crumpled the empty coffee cup in one hand as V shut the door. He sighed. The last few weeks had been difficult for all of the Brotherhood, but he felt particularly that something had shifted yet again between him and Vishous. Actually, he mused, the entire last year had been difficult and full of more shifting than a European sports car on a mountain road. The Lessers, his own near-death experience with the Omega, his conversion, Marissa, V’s shooting, Jane, Jane’s death, the Scribe Virgin…and that was just the odd assortment of happenings with him and V. All of the brothers had been experiencing life-altering relationships and upheavals. Something in the air, the water or the veins. Something.

He hit the electronic switch on the side of the seat, lowered the seatback and kicked his boots up onto the dash. V would growl. Butch smiled. He looked through the windscreen at the glowing red ember of his brother’s hand-rolled. He let his head fall back and his shoulders relax, he closed his eyes.

_And found himself entombed again. Not ready to go, not ready to leave this life. Why was he in this goddamned box? Where was V? If he did indeed need rescuing and right about now he felt in need of being rescued, then where was the vampire who always had his back?_

_He felt a physical rumbling move through his body, snap down his spine and lodge itself in his hipbones. He arched upwards and cracked his torso hard against the lid of the coffin. He could not bring his hands up, they were folded neatly over his chest and he lowered them down to his sides and pushed upwards again._

_It was useless, his strength, the sheer size of him, his mental quickness, none of it mattered. He was alone, forsaken, forgotten, and trapped within the confines of this coffin, but also within the limits of his own body. He lay still for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts, quell his raging emotions. There was no fear, just regret and an incredibly heated feeling inside his bones. A feeling of longing. Powerful longing that coursed through his marrow, into his veins, pumped in and out of the chambers of his heart, swelled his lungs and finally filled his cock to a thick and heavy engorgement. Was this to be his punishment then, for turning away? An eternity with a hard-on and his brain filled with images of…_

“Vishous!” Butch came awake instantly with a violent tremoring of both his arms and a hoarse shout. His spine bucked and his shoulders tensioned back against the seat. His eyes were wide open and staring into the blackness of the night. His hands scrabbled outward again and he screamed.

The side door was yanked open and V was there, a hand on each shoulder, holding him down. The vampire’s face was pushed close to his and he was whispering incoherent words, soothing, and deeply guttural words against his face, his lips moving over Butch’s high set cheekbone.

Butch closed his eyes and moaned. Then he raised his arms and wrapped them around V’s body. He pulled Vishous down against him with all his strength, his fingers spreading wide on his back, holding him tightly against his chest.

“V, V, V,” he murmured and lifted one hand to the back of the vampire’s head, fingers in the short black hair, holding his head hard against his face.

He was rocking them both and V was answering the movement with his own body, his feet still firm on the ground outside the SUV, but his arms sliding around Butch’s shoulders, pulling him up into his embrace. They pushed themselves against each other frantically.

“Fuckin’ cop” V growled and then moved his lips to Butch’s closed eyelids, kissing him there, his brows, the bridge of his nose.

With both hands Butch grabbed the sides of V’s head. He pulled him down, his own mouth open and reaching for V’s lips. They kissed hard, a wild riding of lips and teeth and tongues. Butch felt his upper lip split between their front teeth and V reared his head back, snarling, his white fangs dropping like a vipers bite and with a quick movement he licked at Butch’s lip then kissed him again, pressing his tongue deep into Butch’s mouth.

Butch swallowed, the copper taste of blood overwhelming him. He inhaled the cinnamon smell of V, filling his nostrils. His head was swimming with sensation. He wanted to devour the other male, put his mouth on his flesh, break the skin, suck him dry. Suddenly with a crystal clear clarity, he knew he wanted Vishous in every possible way he could imagine. With his mouth watering and his lungs seizing, he knew he wanted V’s cock in his mouth.

He pulled his head back, brought both hands between their bodies and pushed Vishous hard. Surprised and off balanced, V stumbled back, out of the door frame, into the alley. His eyes flashed as Butch leapt out of the Escalade and landed cat-like on the pavement.

“Had enough, cop?” V’s voice was chilly. He snapped at the leather collar of his trench, smoothing the lapels down over his broad chest. “Scare yourself, did you?” He cocked his handsome head and under lowered brows looked at him. Butch saw that his ungloved hand was shaking.

Butch took one long step closer. V turned his head away, looking down at the ground, then up and away from the other male’s eyes.

“You think I’m scared of being with you?” the cop asked deliberately.

Vishous shook his head slowly, keeping his gaze far away down the end of the alley.

Butch drew closer. “I’m not even close to having had enough, Vishous.”

V swung his head back towards the approaching male. His eyes glittered, the tips of his fangs in his bruised lower lip. Butch licked at his own bleeding upper lip in sympathy. V’s lips were bruised because of him. Because of him. He held his hands out, palm up, indicating a calm intent to the vampire.

The corner of V’s lip twitched and he reached for his belt buckle with both hands. Butch moved faster than he had known he could, his shoulder lowered and hit V hard in the chest, they fell back against the brick wall, Butch brought his hands up to V’s face and lifted his own there, tasting his mouth, laving his jaw, sucking at the bearded chin. V was furiously working his belt, the buckle releasing and he moved to the fly of his leathers. Butch fell to his knees and felt V open his thighs for him, clenching him between his well-muscled legs. He slipped his hands into the open fly of V’s leathers and pushed the heavy material down. With a low-throated growl, he freed the vampire’s heavy erection and guided the wet tip between his lips.

His eyes rolled back under lowered lids and he moaned with pleasure.

He was answered with a quick thrusting of V’s hips, hard, fast against his palms. And thrusting again, driving his swollen cock deeper between his lips, into his mouth. V’s fingers were in his hair, grabbing short handfuls of it. He could hear the vampire’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. His entire existence had become Vishous’s cock, jumping in his mouth, brushing against his teeth, filling him, tasting of him.

Suddenly, V stilled with an animal’s alertness. “Butch.”

The unmistakable smell of baby powder wafted through every smell and taste and touch sensation. Butch rested his forehead against V’s taut stomach, then quickly buttoned the leathers closed and stood slowly, turning against V’s body. The two powerful Brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, their bodies matching, mirroring each one’s deep-kneed crouch as they both reached for their weapons. __


End file.
